In Memoriam
by somnambulism
Summary: [Spoilers for episodes 30-31, Athrun-centric oneshot] Every soldier's worst internal fear is losing a comrade. With the fall of yet another ZAFT pilot, one of the remaining is forced to overcome the loss of a friend he had grown close to.


**In Memoriam**

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**Summary: **Every soldier's worst, internal fear, is losing a comrade. To Le Creuset's team, it has occurred multiple times, each one more devestating than the last. With the fall of yet another ZAFT pilot, one of the remaining is forced to overcome the loss of a friend he had grown close to.

**Rating:** PG. Nothing really awful here. Would be G, but.

**Pairing: **If you close your eyes and click your heels you might spot Athrun/Nicol. I had no intention of it, but if you want to se the fic that way, be my guest.

**Dedication:** To Draconicality, who has stuff that makes good reading material too, and isn't that bad at art, either P. Queen of drawing dragons and phoenixes better than I ever could, this was for you, and all because you made me do it. So basically, if you hate it, folks, blame it on her xP. This fic is also dedicated to all those people who are scared to death of some stuff that's being put out into the SEED section and let lose to run free and eat braincells.

**A/N:** One last warning: There -are- spoilers up to episode 30/31 or so. I advise you not read this unles you wish to be spoiled, or have seen up that far. Also, this is my first SEED fic, so be nice P. Expect a few silly errors, proofreading's not my forte.

Oh, and if you're wondering: The similarity to Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem 'In Memoriam', title-wise, was entirely couincidental. The name kind of just struck me, so I stuck it on. Only then did I do research, and, well, the poem kind of gave me chills because of it.

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Each death is a painful blow to any team of soldiers. Each one affects an individual soldier differently. Each one can be devestating to morale. Especially if one was to bear witness to it.

At a highly inconvenient time, the name of Nicol Amarfi joined the list of casualties suffered by Z.A.F.T. So recently, it seemed, Athrun had been seated at the young prodigy's piano recital, invited personally, enthusiastically, by Nicol himself. It had been only a short while into it that he had fallen asleep, missing every note that now he would have given anything to hear again. And, only a short while after, he had been in the Mobile Suit right behind Blitz as it crackled and fizzed, cut wide open by a blow meant for Athrun himself. But his life had been spared, and another unintentionally taken. Nicol had been one who had died too soon.

Every soldier was trained to deal with loss. To not let it bother them, and to be able to keep a clear mind on the battlefield. Yet, they were all so young, so incapable of handling the weight of such emotions. Having someone close to you torn away just like that was like taking the blow of a sledgehammer directly to the chest. Nicol had been so innocent, so carefree; the complete opposite of what one would imagine when they envisioned the pilot of a weapon of destruction.

It gave Athrun chills to think that someone who he also would have trusted with his life, a friend he had valued since his youth, was the same one removing his comrades from him. Rusty, Miguel, and now Nicol. It was a bitter taste of a cold reality, a surreal never-ending nightmare, a reminder that every battle was a tango that flirted with death. Yet, there was nothing they could do. Events would play out, and more lives would be lost. Until then, they could only delay the unspeakable results. It was a cloud that hung over them, casting a shadow on the ground that they walked and fought upon, and that both sides covered with blood. They fought under those shadows, in the name of revenge. In the name of victory. In the name of peace. Athrun had made the decision he would fight for _them_. For Nicol, Rusty, Miguel, and his own mother.

After Nicol's passing, Athrun had spent time at the same concert hall Nicol had performed at, his solo performance something the aspiring pianist had prided in. Athrun had let him down once, something he vowed that never again would he repeat. For a week straight, he had attended different concerts put on by a variety of pianists of varying skill, ones who he had recalled Nicol mentioning as favorites of his. While the sound of a piano was not something that Athrun could list as something he found enjoyable to listen to for an extended period, it was a welcome replacement to the sounds of destruction and terror. Soothing, it put the soldier at peace with himself. Thoughts about the pilot of the Strike, of mistakes he had made, of those who had died ensuring his safety were lost in the melodies. His guilt was ever-present as he sat awake during concerts of the brilliant musicians, unable to ever again lose consciousness against the music played. During the more solemn melodies, his mind fabricated images of Nicol occupying the bench alongside the performers, a smile on pale, translucent features, fingers ghosting over keys at a different octave. Nicol had belonged in front of a piano, not within the cockpit of a mobile suit. He could have been great, famous even. No one remembered the names of soldiers as history went on, and none of them ever left behind things used to better the world (permenant things, atleast), yet makers of music left behind positive legacies carried down the generations.

Athrun had studied the sheet music that haphazardly, by an eerie coincidence, fallen from Nicol's locker when they returned to the Vesalius. Reading music was a skill Athrun did not possess, one that few in an age such as this one did. While rare, citizens took solace in those who could read music, and those who could generate it as well. Nicol and Lacus both had been blessed with such a rare, valuable gift. Though the written bars of notes that sprawled on forming a masterpiece did not register any recognition in his mind, Athrun promised himself that one day he would play it, in Nicol's honor. When the war would draw to a close, and when peace would be restored, and when fighting would be unnecessary.

When all would be well and right in the world, he would take to the keys of a piano, and he would perform a tribute to not just Nicol, but to all.

To lives lost, to the loved ones of those who would never again see them, and to the ones who would forever suffer over the toll war would take on them.

Athrun could not help but recall a quote he had heard when he was younger, something that had been passed down from a time that paralleled, in some ways, their own.

'History is much like an endless waltz. The three beats of war, peace, and revolution will continue on forever.'

And while that may be true, Athrun would work his best to ensure peace would last for as long as possible. That alone would allow old wounds to heal, and for smiles to once again come to the faces of soldiers who knew nothing other than war and carnage so early on in their lives. Hatred would fade, acceptance replacing the void left behind. Recollections would include the high points, with low ones faded forever away to disturb no longer the generations that would come to follow after. There would be children who could live out their lives without once having to bear witness to the murders of their friends, who could grow up peacefully and go on to have kids of their own. They would tell them the stories of brave soldiers who lost their lives. Of musicians who created masterpieces that outlived them. And, of the heros who made the world a better place and influenced nations and individuals as well.

All of this would be done for them, in their honor.

In memoriam.

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**A/N:** So I wasn't going to post this to but this fic was spawned from crack ideas about how SEED and Wing are strangely similar (in more ways than addictiveness alone), and a certain want to write something involving the sheet music that spilled from Nicol's locker when they returned to the ship after battle. I felt like I owed it to SEED to write something. Anyway, Drac liked this fic (apologies for it not being the DeaYza you wanted. People, pester me and I'll write a DeaYza, I swear), and I hope ya'll did too P.

Review now, please. It'll keep stuff coming. Okay, I lie, but it'll make me happy inside to check my email and see lots of those lovely reviews.


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